The Funeral
by Paquette la Chantefleurie
Summary: This is a little continuation of Cannery Row, with no regard whatsoever to Sweet Thursday, in which Doc has died.
1. Biological West

Biological West was dark on this day. No one hung around. All of Cannery Row seemed rather glum, in fact, from Mack's gang of the Palace Flophouse to the Bear Flag, which Dora had closed down for the time. Even Darling, the pointer bitch of the Flophouse seemed to know of the occasion: Doc was gone. His favorite thing had been truth, and for the time being, that was all there was. No one dared to deny he had a peaceful death. It would be some time till a drunken party would start scandalous rumors. For now, people were fine with letting him be.

With the lack of business at the Bear Flag, the locals, along with a few of the folks from "up on the hill," had crowded into Lee Chong's little grocery. He did not object to this. No one was making noise; some paid in cash; even if this were not so, he would not have cared. Doc was a good man, and had rendered Lee a life's supply of services, as he had to everyone on the Row. The door to the grocery swung open, and Mack entered. Lee hardly looked up. It was Mack who had first heard the news, or so everyone thought. Doc had no family. Mack and his boys wanted to know if he'd be interested in them catching a few hundred frogs…he would not be able to answer their question. Even with his entrance, the stillness remained unbroken. He simply took a beer and, to the Chinaman's great surprise, tossed a coin on the table. In any other time, Lee might have mentally cheered for the first payment he'd ever received from the leader of the Flophouse gang. Without a change of expression, he tucked it away into the cash register.

Mack went back to the Palace Flophouse. Eddie, Hughie, Gay, Hazel, and Jones might as well have not even been there. Darling greeted him appropriately, yet did so in a more melancholy way. She was no longer a puppy, and seemed to know he who had once saved her life was no more. After placing his bottle in the neutral territory of his domain, he set off in the direction of the Bear Flag. Alfred made no move to stop him from entering. For the first time since October of the last year, he entered her office. Phyllis Mae was sitting in there with her, but the two were obviously holding no meeting. Upon Mack's arrival, Phyllis shuffled out. Dora's eyes rose. Somehow, she looked older, and lacked her aura of authority. Mack seemed to start to sit down, only to change his mind and resume standing.

"I been thinkin'…" he started.

"I'm sure."

There was a pause.

"Well, Doc…he got no family."

Dora's authoritive look was starting to return, the first expression anyone had seen since the day before, when news had broke.

"That's probably better for 'im. Look at your boys, an' yerself-what good's family done for y'all? Ah. That ain't what you're getting at, is it?"

"Finely put, Madam…so what I been thinkin' is…well, Doc's gotta have a nice funeral."

"An' you want old Dora to tell you what to do?"

"Yes."

Dora leaned back. This was not the time for serious thinking.

"Well, what about the funeral?"

"It's not been had…we can't just leave his body lyin' there in Western Bi'logical!"

"He's still there?"  
"No family. So who's to give funeral? None of the folks up on the hill know, I reckon. They didn't like the folks choosin' to live on Cannery when they could afford otherwise."

"I reckons we'll have to give him a funeral ourselves, then."

Mack nodded as a proper man should and found his way out. That Dora was one helluva woman. That's why she was the Madam.


	2. The Boys

Frankie lay curled up in his excelsior box in Western Biological, keeping his thoughts for company. What had he done wrong now? He could not think of an answer. Doc was unable to be wakened. Doc had been good to him. Now somehow, Frankie had caused some unfixable problem, without knowing how. When the men had come in to try to get some quest-the boy had seen them at all the parties-he had ran back to his box. He'd never faced them without Doc. He could hear them becoming panicky. Then they were gone; but he didn't bother to try to wake his friend again. In the darkness he stayed in his box, along with his thoughts, as his child mind drifted into blessed sleep.

Two boys crept on the rocky beach below Doc's place. They seemed to go along cautiously, not wanting to be seen-not that it would've helped in that open space. Both were armed with small rocks from the road, mainly held in their pockets. The tide was low, the day still early. They paused, while continually moving, as they approached the building. Finally, one of them started out directly towards it. The other hesitantly followed behind.

"Coward. Just like your father. No better than a rat, squirming in the dirt."

The leading boy stopped to make a demonstration.

"Stop, Willard."

"What'cha gonna do, huh? Don't you wanna prove the Sprague liar wrong, huh? Jump 'im rightfully, then."

"What if there is babies in there-unborned ones?"

"Jump 'im anyways; he's too much of a coward to go in here. Like you."

"That ain't true; I'm coming!"

"Besides, babies don't come unborned."

"Then what're we goin' round here for?"

"We're just gonna see what he did have cooped up here."

They came to the back of the building. There were neither people nor doors in sight. Willard took his largest rock and smashed in a window. Joey, the other, did the same to widen the opening. A few tom cats jumped out, forcing the boys to delay their entrance. The smell hit them after some moments; the snakes and rats uncared for in the cages reacted in their own ways upon sensing human invaders. Joey regretted having not thought to bring a light when they journeyed farther from the light of the windows. "Willard…" he began. There was no reply, although he must have been heard; Joey poked his companion, just within a foot away, to make certain he was still there. "What if we come 'cross his body?" There was still no reply. This was something that had not occurred to Joey, and it put him into uneasiness, though he would never have admitted it. Unbeknownst to them, Doc's body was as Frankie and Mack's boys had left it: on the next floor up, on the bed, wrapped nicely in a silk quilt of the garments and handiwork of the gals at the Bear Flag; a birthday present to the beloved man. He'd never really gone to the Bear Flag, but all of its employees had come to him for help at one (rather, many more) time(s) or another. Now back on track of the boys…

"Joey, you rat," Willard called, "why don't you find where the lightin' is?"

Both of them ended up scrabbling to find it, with no luck. The room they were in seemed to be some sort of storage. Nothing interesting-particularly unborned babies in jars, seemed to reside there. "C'mon, Willard. Let's get outta here."

"What? Try an' make me. I oughtta tie you to rat cage. Better yet, he musta kept rat poison round here somewheres. Then you could put yourself out of your cowardice misery. Your daddy thought he was a rat, an' I bet you do, too."

"Stop talkin' of him. It ain't funny no more."

"Ain't my fault he done kill't himself. I've never thought I was a rat. I never at rat poison."

"If'n you don't quit, I'm gonna…gonna…"

"You gonna try to fight with me?" Willard laughed.

"He weren't a rat! You're more rat than he was, or anybody I know!"

"I ain't no damn rat! You're just skeered in the dark. I ain't. I ain't skeered of nothing. Go eat rat poison, an' deal with it."

The argument went on. Neither of them noticed a stirring from the excelsior box.

"He…were'nt…a rat!" Joey fell back.

"You're cornered now, like a rat, all right, all right." Willard kicked out at his companion and victom. Joey thought he could catch a glimpse of a blurry figure behind his tormentor. First he was frightened. Willard felt himself being socked. He called out to his "rat" and tried to grasp what had introduced its fist to his face, then ran out of the room, out of the building, taking no notice of anyone shuffling glumly back to the excelsior box.


End file.
